


kill our way to heaven

by orphan_account



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling in Love at the End of the World, Hunger Games, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, everything bad that's in the hunger games is in this fic too so beware
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27234094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Stefanos doesn’t even realize that he’s going to help him, to save someone who wouldn’t have blinked twice before killing him in cold blood – someone who had almost killed him in cold blood at the Cornucopia – until he’s already doing it, until he’s already done it and Alexander is staring at him with blue eyes wide in shock and fear and pain."***The lives of Stefanos Tsitsipas and Alexander Zverev cross when they both become tributes for the 74th Hunger Games - Stefanos, by an unlucky twist of fate that determined that he would be the chosen one from District 4; Alexander, because he volunteered to become the umpteenth victor from District 1.Nothing will ever be the same.
Relationships: Stefanos Tsitsipas/Alexander Zverev
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	kill our way to heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Hunger Games AU! I have been thinking about writing this for ages and finally the inspiration struck - I guess we can thank the dark times we're currently living in for that. 
> 
> Please be mindful of the warnings and tags!
> 
> In this universe, the tributes for the Hunger Games are all 21 years old.

_74 th Hunger Games – The Arena, Day 4_

Shooting the arrow that saves Alexander Zverev – tall, blond, beautiful, strong, trained-all-his-life-to-kill Alexander Zverev – is all instinct and no rationality.

Stefanos doesn’t even realize that he’s going to help him, to save someone who wouldn’t have blinked twice before killing him in cold blood – someone who _had_ almost killed him in cold blood at the Cornucopia – until he’s already doing it, until he’s already done it and Alexander is staring at him with blue eyes wide in shock and fear and pain.

Stefanos had found him lying on the ground, a wild animal that most certainly has been crated in a lab hovering over him and biting, growling, slashing. The beast was huge and clearly it had taken Alexander by surprise with its attack. Alexander had been doing what he could, but Stefanos had quickly realized that the District 1 champion was badly injured, blood gushing out of a wide, deep gash running down his shoulder and right arm. It had been then that he had noticed Angelique, the female tribute from District 1, lying dead on the ground right behind Alexander – and Stefanos had realized then that Alexander had tried to protect her, putting himself between her and the beast, but he had been too late.

And maybe that had been the reason why Stefanos had decided to help – and how ridiculous is it, to help someone live one more day in this damn arena when in the end only one of them will be able to survive? Stefanos imagines his dad cursing him out for being too _soft_ , hears his brother calling him an idiot as he points his crossbow to the wild animal and kills it instead of his competitor. Not his mom, though, and not Elizavet. They would understand, he thinks.

When he was a child, Stefanos, born and raised in District 4 to a family of fishermen, used to cry for every fish he had to watch convulse in their boat after a day at sea – he had been ashamed and everyone used to make fun of him for it, to call him weird, but even then, his mom had understood. His mom is probably smiling now, watching this unfold on their shabby television, a hand on her heart and tears in her eyes as she says ‘my boy’, the same affection in her eyes as when he would come home and confess to her that he had freed a fish while nobody was looking.

Alexander Zverev is no helpless creature, though. He is the furthest thing from helpless, in fact, and the blade he’s now holding to Stefanos’ throat, so close that Stefanos can feel a trickle of blood run down his neck, is testimony to that. Stefanos hadn’t even seen him move, hadn’t realized Alexander had gotten up; instead he’d immediately found himself in a chokehold, the boy he has just saved now standing behind him, holding him still and one second away from killing him.

 _I should have known_ , he thinks bitterly, _no good deed goes unpunished._

***

_74 th Hunger Games – The Capitol, Day 1_

Stefanos and Maria arrive in the Capitol at night-time. Rafael, their mentor, seems to dislike the place just as much as Maria does, both of them staring at the whirlwind of lights and skyscrapers with their noses wrinkled, eyebrows drawn together and a downturned mouth.

And the Capitol is so, so different from District 4 and its beaches, its sea and its rivers, its frank people with their constantly tanned skin and constantly salty hair. The capital is artificial, and impersonal, and fake fake fake.

Stefanos is a bit embarrassed to admit that, as much as he feels disgusted by the tasteless opulence and obvious waste of resources of the Capitol, part of him is a bit fascinated by it, by its modernity and vibrancy that are so different from what he’s known his entire life, from his simple house that always smells a bit like fish, a bit like the sea and a lot like his mom’s cooking. The moment he thinks of his family, he also feels a stab of disgust towards himself for even just giving in to the smallest bit of fascination with the corrupt machine that calls for the needless death of almost two dozens of twenty-one-year olds every single year just to remind them that they should never entertain a single thought of freedom, of equality.

“We’re almost there,” Rafael tells them, and there’s pity in his voice, and dread, and a lot of ill-concealed hatred. Stefanos wonders if Rafael actually even _wants_ to conceal it at all. Ever since the reaping, District 4’s only living Victor had been nothing but honest about his feelings towards the Capitol and about what awaits Stefanos and Maria.

“What I did wasn’t heroic,” he tells them as they are discussing his victory fifteen years prior. “You shouldn’t walk into that Arena thinking you will become a hero. When you’re in there, you can only try to survive – but whatever happens, remember that the blood on your hands doesn’t make you a killer. You never had a choice. None of us ever did”.

Stefanos wonders if that’s true for everyone though.

Every year, the reapings in Districts 1 and 2 see the strongest boy and the strongest girl volunteer instead of whoever had been chosen by fate, and everyone knows that the richest Districts train their strongest and most athletic children to become perfect killing machines by the age of 21, when only the best of the best have the _honor_ of volunteering, despite knowing that only one of them will make it out alive.

Does what Rafael said count for them, too?

Stefanos has seen short videos of this year’s tributes from the first two Districts, and has detected no fear or hesitation in their eyes. From District 1, Angelique and Alexander: both of them sport the distinctive District 1 blond hair and blue eyes, and they look strong, healthy and athletic – and fearless, and proud. Even before seeing them train, Stefanos knows they will be a threat. On the television screen, Stefanos studies Alexander’s sharp cheekbones and jawline, his blazing blue eyes and think he’s as beautiful as he’s deadly. Their mentor, Masha, had won the games the year before Rafael, and she had beaten the record for the fastest win in history, killing all of her competitors who hadn’t been slaughtered at the Cornucopia or by some ‘natural’ disaster with cold blooded efficiency.

The tributes from District 2, Dominic and Belinda, are no less intimidating, and they look just as eager to fight in the arena as the golden haired duo from District 1, although their mentor, Roger, is at least less intimidating than Masha.

When their train stops they are escorted to their chambers, which are as luxurious as they are impersonal and asphyxiating. Stefanos had never noticed how much he loved the smell and the sound of the sea until he didn’t have it anymore, and it’s with a sharp pang to the heart and a sudden lump in his throat that he realizes that there is a very, very good chance that he will never experience either again.

Maria, sitting on the couch next to him, squeezes his hand.

Neither of them says anything, but he doesn’t need to talk to her to know that they’re going through the exact same mourning process. He’s happy to have her, to share this horrible, impossible experience with someone who understands _._

\- _until you have to kill her_ , his brain reminds him, a cold whisper in his ear.

\- _until she has to kill you._

***

_74 th Hunger Games – The Capitol, Day 3_

It comes as a bit of a shock to Stefanos that he’s better at fighting than he thought he would be – and that he _wants_ to do well at this. He wants to _win,_ and the knowledge of it, the hunger he feels in his lungs and in his bones and in his muscles, the single-minded will to go back to his parents _alive_ is such a powerful, alien feeling that he hides from it – because how can you reconcile it with the fact that the only way to make it out alive is to become a killer?

How can you accept the fact that once in the arena you will have to murder or be murdered, and that it’s always going to be another 21-year-old tribute without a choice on the other hand of the sword, whatever end that is?

“Are you using this?”

Stefanos abruptly turns around and finds himself face to face with one Alexander Zverev, District 1. As soon as the tributes had settled in the Capitol, it had been pretty clear that Alexander was considered the clear favourite of the year, as well as being loved by the elite crowds for his good looks and obvious charisma. Stefanos has observed him over the past couple of days, watching him train relentlessly and aggressively, never speaking to anyone but Angelique, Dominic and Belinda, with whom he will most likely form an alliance of privileged favourites.

This is the first time that they are face to face, though, and the first thing Stefanos notices is that they are the same height – the second being that Alexander’s penetrating eyes have some green in them, and the third that his canines are very pointy to the point of being a little vampiresque, if he is to believe the illustrations of his old smuggled books back at home.

The thing is – Stefanos is naturally a friendly person. He _loves_ talking to people and getting to know them, loves asking them too-deep questions and he makes a point to listen to their answers and remember things about them. So, obviously, his first instinct is to smile at Alexander and tell him that actually he doesn’t really know how to shoot a bow but maybe Alexander could show him? And in exchange for that he can show the District 1 born tribute how to forge a fishing spear and how to best use it.

It takes him a long moment to suppress what would have been an amiable reply, to remember that this guy with a pretty face has been trained all his life to kill people like Stefanos, and Maria, and everyone else who hasn’t volunteer to be here for a chance at some glory, but has been chosen by a very, very unlucky hand.

His hesitation lasts too long for Alexander though, who arches an eyebrow and looks at him with obvious disdain.

“If you’re not going to use it then just move aside and go do something else. Build a nice fishing net and let the grownups play with the real toys.”

There is such arrogance, such condescendence in his placid voice that Stefanos feels something inside him catch fire, his cheeks and his burning with anger and indignation.

Without saying a word he pushes past Alexander, bumping slightly into him as he does, and strides towards the weight-lifting station. Now, Stefanos may not know how to use a bow and arrow, but years of carrying cargos of fish and sacks of sand have made him strong, and he _knows_ it.

He spots the heaviest weight, a big metallic ball with spikes, and immediately grabs it by the handle. Despite how heavy it is, the adrenaline that’s cursing through his veins from his exchange with Alexander makes it feel light, and Stefanos doesn’t hesitate to swing it backwards with all his strength and throw it forward, making sure that it lands square on the archery range, right as Alexander is preparing to shoot.

The blond tribute’s arrow flies way off the target, and his head whips around searching for the culprit only to land on Stefanos, who smiles unassumingly.

“Sorry, I guess I need to work on my aim a little,” he says, making sure he doesn’t sound repentant at all.

Alexander doesn’t say anything back – he just stares straight at Stefanos with blazing blue eyes, nocking another arrow on the bow and pointing it to the target without ever letting his gaze stray from Stefanos. When he shoots, the bullseye is only a hair’s breadth away.

Stefanos feels a hand on his arm and immediately Maria is in his face, whispering heatedly.

“Are you insane? Are you trying to turn us into their number one target? Because if that’s the plan, then it sure seems to be working. This is _not_ what Rafa told us to do! He told us to lay low, to keep our cards close to our chests, not to show them off while simultaneously pissing off the most dangerous people in the competition. What the hell were you thinking?”

There is genuine anger in her eyes, but what truly gets to Stefanos is the fear hiding behind it. Guilt hits him like a truck, as the image of Alexander Zverev pointing his bow at Maria because of _him_ makes him feel nauseous and physically sick.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t – I wasn’t thinking. He came onto me and I just – it was stupid. I just wanted to show him that we’re not going to just stand there and let us slaughter us. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Maria takes a big breath and sighs, slow and painful, before shaking her head.

“No, you’re right. I don’t want them to think that either. They don’t get to take that away from us. I … I want to fight, too. If they wanted to be here so bad, then we may as well show them to be careful what they wish for.”

God, Stefanos loves this girl.

They only met a few days ago, on the horrible day of the reaping, but they have very quickly become friends, despite Maria having pragmatic and to the point where he is a dreamer. Having to share a terrifying, dehumanizing experience will do that to anyone. 

He nods at her before pointing to the knife-throwing station, free now that Felix and Naomi from District 11 have moved somewhere else.

“Let’s go, we still have half an hour of training time,” he tells her, and she follows, squeezing his arm once in rekindled friendship.

That night, when the tributes evaluations come out, Stefanos is shocked to find himself in third place, right behind Alexander and Dominic. Sitting next to him on the couch, Maria – who has ranked 11th – gives him a sad smile.

“Congratulations,” she tells him, as Rafael gives him a pat on the knee.

Stefanos leaves the room, locks himself in his room, grabs a pillow to shove his face in, and just screams, screams, screams.

***

_74 th Hunger Games – The Capitol, Day 7_

“If we get separated – “

“We’re not going to get separated.”

“Stef – “

“We’re not. We have prepared for this, we know what to do.”

“Stef, please let me say this. I _need_ to say this and you’re the only person who can listen that I have left. Please.”

They are sitting opposite each other on the window sill in the dark of their suite, looking at the sea of lights outside. Maria is looking at him with what could only be called anguish, and Stefanos doesn’t have it in him to stop her again, so he nods and takes her hand in his.

“If we get separated, or if I – you know. If I die before you do. Could you tell my parents that I love them? Donna, too. Just – say it out loud. There’s cameras everywhere and I want them to know. I want everyone to know. And if you make it out alive, Stef… and I think you could do it. If one of us will, it’s going to be you, we both know it. If you make it out alive, then tell them again. Tell them in person, and hug them for me and make sure they want for nothing ever again. Will you do that for me?”

Stefanos is quiet for a long, long while, heart hammering in his throat. Maria brings her free hand to dry his tears, and only then he realizes he’s crying.

He nods, silently, lifting her left hand, the one he’s holding, and holding it to his lips, sealing his promise.

“I keep thinking about Elizavet,” he confesses, and he feels his voice breaking and his breath hitching at the thought of his beloved little sister. “I told my dad that I don’t want her to watch. I keep thinking that if I die – when I die she’s going to see it, and it’s going to break her spirit forever. I – I just wish I could watch her grow up”.

He doesn’t know why he says it out loud, when every word makes it so real and so much more painful. Maria hugs him, stroking his hair and comforting him.

They fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, and when they wake up, the countdown is over and death is looming upon them.

***

_74 th Hunger Games – The Arena, Day 4_

Alexander’s blade shallowly cutting the skin of his throat is nothing more than a dull ache.

His heart, though, is a whole other matter.

It’s sunny in the arena, and Stefanos is inexplicably grateful that he will die with a last caress from the sun. Acceptance and survival instinct – the will to _live_ , even just a minute longer – battle within him.

His mind is flooded by the faces of the people he loves: his parents, his brothers, Elizavet – God how it hurts to know that he’ll never see her again, his little ray of sunshine – and Maria.

 _I’m sorry I couldn’t save you_ , he tells her in his thoughts.

His struggling is in vain, and Stefanos feels his eyes closing of their own accord, preparing for what’s to come, for what should be coming any second now but doesn’t – why doesn’t it?

And then, as quickly as it had captured him, Alexander lowers the blade and releases him.

Adrenaline, and relief, and fear, and shock flood Stefanos and make him lightheaded to the point that for a few moments he just stands there wondering if maybe he’s already dead and this is all a dream – but no, behind him he can hear Alexander’s rapid breathing, and it’s loud and frantic, almost as if he had just come up for air after too long a time under water.

Stefanos dares to turn around and finds Alexander standing there, the blade at his feet, staring at him with an expression full of turmoil and pain.

“You saved my life,” he says, and his tone is as incredulous as it is accusatory.

Stefanos doesn’t know what to say – he doesn’t even know why he did it in the first place, only that now they’re at a standstill neither of them seems to know how to break, unless Alexander attempts to kill him again.

“I don’t – “ Alexander tries to say, but words fail him and he shakes his head in disbelief. He’s growing paler and paler, and Stefanos realizes that the big gash on his shoulder never stopped bleeding, and that he’s blatantly favouring his left leg.

 _You could kill him_ , a voice that sounds uncomfortably alike his own murmurs in his ear. _He is weak, and injured, and unarmed. You could kill him and get one step closer to seeing Elizavet again._

At the thought, he feels a rush of something dark and powerful flood his system, immediately followed by an even stronger wave of reject and disgust.

Some facts about Alexander Zverev become very clear in Stefanos’ mind in that moment: he is badly injured. He has blue eyes with a hint of green in them. He tried to protect Angelique. He’s the same height as Stefanos. His canines are very pointy. And finally, and most importantly, Stefanos does not want to kill him.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on this, or try to communicate it to the blond tribute, because right at that moment Alexander’s eyes roll back and he keels over.

Stunned, Stefanos stars at his competitor lying on the ground, suddenly looking so very young and innocent, and he thinks that Alexander has never been more dangerous to him than right at this very second.

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely different from what I usually write, but I hope you'll like it <3 Please leave a comment if you do!


End file.
